


the walls are a little thicker over in brigid

by cathrheas



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dry Humping, F/F, Guilt, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Overhearing Sex, except not on purpose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:02:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25706356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathrheas/pseuds/cathrheas
Summary: Dorothea had expected some of her classmates to change over the years—she had predicted Caspar’s growth spurt, and Edelgard’slackof a growth spurt—but what shehadn’texpected was for Petra to very enthusiastically pick up a masturbation habit.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Petra Macneary
Comments: 4
Kudos: 78
Collections: Wank Week 2020





	the walls are a little thicker over in brigid

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to check out [my Twitter](https://twitter.com/cathrheas)!

_Petra’s at it again..._

Dorothea had expected some of her classmates to change over the years—she had predicted Caspar’s growth spurt, and Edelgard’s _lack_ of a growth spurt—but what she _hadn’t_ expected was for Petra to very enthusiastically pick up a masturbation habit. 

_Or maybe she did this back when we were still attending the academy, and she just forgot how to be quiet._

At that, Dorothea vehemently rolled over in her bed, hoping she’d shake whatever she was thinking out of her head. But then she heard another cry drift through the walls, and she realized that trying to ignore what was happening one door over was completely impossible. Linhardt was lucky, she thought. He slept like a rock, meaning he didn’t have to be subject to...whatever Petra was doing next door. No, Dorothea was the only victim. 

Less a victim of Petra, and more a victim of her own thoughts.

Dorothea definitely understood what it felt like to need a little relief. In fact, she was very much in need of it, after nights on end listening to Petra touch herself. She was frustrated with herself for being unable to find a solution besides listening intently, but it was easier to instead blame that anger on Petra. It was Petra’s fault for being so loud, Petra’s fault for sounding so good, Petra’s fault for never saying Dorothea’s name like Dorothea always imagined.

Once Dorothea’s hand went between her legs, though, to indignantly solve the problem that Petra had created, she realized how immature she was being. Of course, it was easier to blame Petra for what was very clearly a problem that Dorothea had with herself. It would have been astronomically simpler if Petra hadn’t been so loud in the first place, but Dorothea couldn’t control that. She could only control what she did in response. What she should have done was move to an unoccupied room, or politely ask Petra to be a little quieter in the evenings, or do _anything_ but get off to the thought of her sweet Petra fucking herself senseless.

But Dorothea had always had an impressive libido, and a remarkable lack of self-control in the face of temptation. The temptation was not only Petra herself, but the sheer _intimacy_ of what she was doing. She was glad that Linhardt couldn’t hear Petra. It made her feel like it was just the two of them. Even when Dorothea knew the truth, that the odds of Petra thinking of her were low, she liked to pretend.

Dorothea rolled over once more, that time turning to her pillow. It was rather long, and firm. The perfect shape for her to imagine that it took the place of Petra’s body. Petra was still going, even after what felt like an eternity of Dorothea trying to ignore it. Petra had an insane amount of stamina on the battlefield; did that translate to her more personal endeavors, too?

_She’s doing it on purpose,_ Dorothea concluded. _That’s the only way. It’s...it’s not even my fault._

Dorothea hiked a leg up over her pillow, a practiced position; that way, she could grind against the pillow’s side while burying her face in it. Petra wasn’t concerned about being heard, it seemed, but Dorothea was. She had very little shame, but she was not shameless, and having Petra confront her about what she’d done...she wouldn’t have been able to stand it.

Goddess, what would Petra say? What would she think?

Dorothea dug her heels into her bed and shut her eyes, closing her legs around her pillow and _grinding._ That first stimulation to her clit was enough to make her see stars behind her eyelids. “It’s not my fault,” Dorothea repeated into her pillowcase, her voice whiny with guilt and desire. “What else am I supposed to do...?”

Petra moaned with perfect timing, low and somber. She hadn’t climaxed yet, Dorothea knew that sound, but she was getting into it. Dorothea couldn’t go as long as Petra did, so it might have been better that she always tended to join in towards the end. If she waited for Petra, if they finished at the same time—it would be like they were doing it together. Like Petra knew.

Dorothea imagined Petra laying back on her bed, taking the place of the pillow, fingering herself while Dorothea rubbed up against her thigh. She tried to imagine what Petra’s pussy may have looked like, how wet it would be, how her fingers would have touched it.

_No. Too far, too far._

Dorothea was torn. Deep down, she knew she was no longer masturbating just to ease the tension, but Petra...Petra had been so good to her. She’d promised Petra she would take care of her, and Petra had offered her the same kindness, and Dorothea was taking advantage of her. 

Things were moving too fast for Dorothea to think. If she’d had a chance to really think about what she was doing, what she was feeling, she would have been able to stop it, but Petra didn’t let up. She was chatty, too, switching between broken Fodlanese and her native language. Petra had taught her a bit, but Petra hadn’t taught her the naughty words, the ones that Petra was surely saying next door.

Petra wasn’t as innocent as Dorothea thought she was. That was clear by how often she was indulging in herself. But Dorothea couldn’t help feeling like she was soiling Petra, ruining something—

And it felt _so, so_ good.

Dorothea always came to that conclusion, again and again, after fingering herself or grinding against her pillow until she was ready to cum. Her mind would run in circles, thinking about what she should do, what she shouldn’t do, what she should be thinking and feeling, and in the end, she always acknowledged her guilt, but never lied to herself about how much she liked it. It was wrong, it felt wrong, but she couldn’t stop.

“ _Please_...”

Dorothea’s breath hitched at the sharp plea coming through her walls. She moved her hips faster, trying to catch up with Petra, and whispered, “I’ve got you, Petra. I’ve got you, I’ll...” _I’ll fuck you until you finally say my name. Until you’re begging me._

Petra tended to ramble on and on, switching between languages, when she climaxed. Dorothea took her pillowcase between her teeth and _screamed_ as she came, trying to piece together the broken fragments of Petra’s words and make her name out of them. She squeezed her legs around her pillow, hard enough that it would have hurt had Petra actually been there.

But she wasn’t.

Petra must have been teasing herself to a finish, because the moans didn’t stop for a few long minutes. Dorotha laid there, panting and trying to get her legs to loosen up, while Petra quieted to a hum that Dorothea could barely hear. When Petra was being loud, Dorothea wanted nothing more than for it to be over, but when it was finally silent again, Dorothea couldn’t stand the sound of her own thoughts.

She buried her face in her pillow and shouted again, that time out of anger rather than pleasure. She hardly ever got so frustrated and upset, but Petra—Petra pressed all of the right buttons. And now she was sticky, and wet, and pent up because grinding against a pillow wasn’t _enough,_ and she definitely wouldn’t be able to sleep properly.

_Tomorrow. I’ve gotta talk to her about this tomorrow._

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> BONUS:
> 
> Petra threw an arm over eyes, chest heaving. It felt amazing every time, but maybe doing it every night, back to back, wasn't a good idea...then again, it was hard to stop, knowing that Dorothea was right next door. Part of her wanted Dorothea to hear her, to knock on her door and tell her how lovely she sounded—the other part was content to close her eyes and pretend that Dorothea was already there.
> 
> _It does not really matter...Dorothea must be a rather heavy sleeper if she has not heard me by now._


End file.
